The Long Twisted Wild Road
by Luxsword
Summary: a bit of descriptive writing, short but kinda deep lol
1. Chapter 1

The road built my man, destroyed by fire, neglected by time. A road traveled by many, guarded by dangers. A road haunted by the spirits and ghosts of many. It never speaks, nor does it tell of the many things that happen on it. Only company it has is the silent cries of the old signs and skeletons of past. Flags of the new interrupt its long silent rest. New reason of existence, for the road, for travelers of two icons. A Bull and a Bear. Blood once again fill its broken surface, as though filling veins of a non moving construct. The road feels, it falters turns and twists. It can lead to safety or it can take on a long journey with no hope at the end. The road has many faces. Although they hold their stare. Unforgiving, blank, all the same merciful. To walk the road alone would be to welcome death. Trampled, stomped, the most forgotten yet most important object of the entire wasteland.

Peaceful nights, painfully hot days. The road does not complain, only endures and suffers the abuse it has placed upon it. Only finding a peaceful comfort in sand blown wind across its surface. The road seen from a distance is hard to view, but present. Hard to travel and full of woe. Only a handful of pleasantries go with the road. A lifetime of suffering cannot mend its broken soul. To ignore its warnings will prove fatal. Adding to the roads never-ending miles of silent ghosts. Keeping the road company for eternity is the fate for those who do not heed the roads many warnings. Many things happen on the road. Yet the road holds its voice. The sorrows of the unfortunate never spoken of again. The road will never tell what has happened on its surface nor will it ever lead rescue to aid those unfortunate.

The road has no owner anymore has not seen one in far too long nor does it listen to any master. The road has become feral, wild and uncaring. Speaking to the long unfeeling soul of destructed asphalt will not give any comfort. It will not answer the sobs of tears and blood. The road takes what it wants, and gives nothing in return. And in the end when the world has gone hush and nothing but the wind carries stories from one end of the road to the other, only the road will be left with its ghosts and skeletons for company. For the road has seen a lot and has heard the most. Its stories will never be heard nor told. The secrets it has will forever be kept until no more blood fill its cracked surface.

Think not that the road bends for you or anything else. But **everything** **bends** for the Road.


	2. chapter 2

The Full Yet Empty City

The city in all its glory. Wide, vast, full of life. The voice of the city is loud and frantic. The sound and voices around every corner. If the walls of broken concrete and twisted metal of this one great city were touched the pain of the city would feel like a quiver of fear and anticipation. A nation's capitol torn, broken, corrupted. Only ghosts fill its nooks, and sorrows evade its crevices An enraged city looking to draw in the unsuspecting with its dark and sullen broken world. A curious sight to behold. The only way to evade its grasp is to lose all interest in what may lie within its many walls.

Only losing interest in something so great and so fascinating is a hard goal to meet. It's many voices calling and urging. Pulling in more souls to feast on. A hunger clawing, screaming, devouring. The sobs of the dying its music as it dines. A haunted city that feels no remorse, only hunger. A hunger only sated by curious lost souls. The city feeds and feeds, filling the endless empty soul it has endured for so many years of abuse and neglect.

Eventually the cities call answered. Its hunger fed. Then its pain and anger continues in an endless circle of want. All the voices and their continuous cry of hate echo throughout its streets. More stories for the road. To be neglected for so long the city calls out in loneliness before turning and swallowing whole more lives. Its sad wilted look only a ploy for pity. To try to pacify this lonely anger only sends the city into feeding chaos. The city will have what it wants, anyway it can get it. Its only friend in something that knows its pain shared in its abuse. The road.

The City demands respect. And the city **will** get it.


End file.
